


To the Moon and Back Again

by Shinyunderwater



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e10 Blink, F/M, Racism, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinyunderwater/pseuds/Shinyunderwater
Summary: Weeping Angels sent Martha and the Doctor back to 1969, but the Doctor had no file. He had no way to communicate with Sally Sparrow and no way to get them home. Martha and the Doctor are stuck, and the only way for them to get back to the TARDIS is to take the slow path for 38 years.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Martha Jones
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	1. Ob La Di Ob La Da

**Author's Note:**

> This story goes AU right before Blink. It borrows elements from that episode but goes in an entirely different direction. Martha and the Doctor are for real stuck in 1969. No cheating. They really can't get back without going the long way.
> 
> I usually try to keep chapter length more or less consistent within the same fic, but I'm trying something different with this fic. Each chapter will last until the arc of the chapter is concluded. So some chapters might be only a couple thousand words and some might be almost ten thousand. Lemme know your thoughts on this. Is it better reading? Worse?

The Doctor knew a lot of things. He knew the distance between the Earth and its sun. He knew the molecular mass of every molecule in the cement under his feet. He knew the evolutionary route that had turned Weeping Angels into such terrifying, yet in some ways tragic, figures. He knew the number of seconds in a decade without having to calculate it. He knew the number of seconds in a century. He knew so many things, useful things, interesting things, vital things.

So when Martha asked him what had happened he knew the answer to that. They'd been sent back in time. A quick analysis made him think Weeping Angels the most probable culprits. When she asked where they were he knew the location was still London, but the date had become January 1969 without having to spend more than a second thinking about it. When she asked him how they were going to get back he knew the answer to that question all too well.

He couldn't admit it to her though. He couldn't even admit it to himself. He was the Doctor. He knew so many things. He had to be able to find a way to get them home. So he convinced himself he didn't know what he did.

He convinced himself that his knowledge was wrong. He knew, but he didn't know, refused to know, that there was one way to get back to where they had come from. He knew there was one way back to the TARDIS. All they needed to do was wait just short of forty years, and time would bring them back from whence they had come.

_ Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da _

_ Life goes on, whoa _

_ La, la how their life goes on _

"I'll figure something out," the Doctor told Martha after an almost imperceptible hesitation. However Martha was very good at perceiving things. She didn't comment on the hesitation though. He'd just deny it.

"Alright. So what's our first step?"

"Simple as anything. We need to collect more intel, arm ourselves with information," the Doctor enthused. "Why did the Angels send us here in particular? I can't imagine we're their first victims. Perhaps we can find other displaced people and collect enough data to analyze their hunting patterns."

At that point the Doctor started rambling about the culture and biology of Weeping Angels. Martha would be fascinated under normal (well for them) circumstances, but as it were she was just cold. It had been summer when the Angels had waylaid them, but it was winter where (when?) they had ended up and Martha wasn't dressed for it. She shivered.

The Doctor didn't seem to notice her discomfort, which wasn't unusual for him. She knew how he got distracted when he was theorizing. Martha always tried to dress for the climate wherever they went, but she hadn't been able to prepare for this destination like she could on the TARDIS during their usual landings. She'd had no idea the temperate summer day would get swept away and replaced by a bone numbing chill.

"How long do you think we'll be here for," Martha asked, noting by the sun's position that it was mid afternoon. It would only get colder moving forward.

"Sick of the place already? We only just arrived. Lots of things happening in London in the sixties. Get excited Martha," he said in a rousing voice. Martha often found his ability to get excited about almost anything charming, but she had practical concerns to worry about and couldn't get wrapped up in that charm.

"I was just wondering if we needed to worry about finding a place to sleep tonight."

"Oh right. I don't need to sleep, but you are a human so I suppose you do. It's so limiting that need for sleep you lot have. It's like a sickness, or a very boring curse. In fact a friend of mine once wrote a story about that, a young woman cursed with sleep. In the story she pricked her finger on a spinning-"

Martha cut the Doctor off before he could get lost in a lengthy anecdote about some German brothers he had known. "As tragic as our need for sleep is, it exists. I'd rather not try to nap in an alley either. Maybe we should figure out shelter before we do anything else."

The Doctor sighed as if he were a parent lugging around a toddler that requested the toilet every five minutes. Martha chose not to be bothered. He was an alien, and to him she was an alien. She supposed it was natural for him to forget about human needs and limitations. She was no expert on his species after all. "Alright. I know a place we can stay."

An hour or so later they were at a location identified by a beat up sign with peeling paint as a 76 Totter's Lane owned by an I.M. Foreman, scrap merchant. "Friend of yours," Martha asked. She couldn't keep the scepticism out of her voice. The place looked abandoned and in severe disrepair.

"I parked the TARDIS here for a few months once," the Doctor said. His voice sounded a bit off, but Martha couldn't quite place what it was she heard. "No one will bother us here."

"Alright…" Martha doubted there was heat inside, but a roof was better than nothing.

The Doctor led her around the back to an unsecured entrance into the building. Once inside she was greeted by the sight of various mechanical odds and ends piled in haphazard stacks. There was a plethora of spiderwebs and no dearth of rodent dropping. It was also, as she had suspected, quite cold. The Doctor didn't seem perturbed by any of that. He clapped his hands together and started rubbing them in excitement.

"This is perfect! There's plenty of material here to build something that will be of use to us! I could make a detector for temporal anomalies. Oh yes, this will do quite nicely as a base of operations. Excellent idea Martha."

"Glad I could be of help," she grumbled.

The Doctor was already digging into a pile and didn't seem to have heard her. Martha looked around the room and tried not to despair. There was a staircase that led up to a second floor. Martha walked over and inspected the wood for rot, attempting to discover if it was safe to climb. She wondered if the upstairs might be a touch tidier. With the Doctor distracted there was little else to do but look. She began a cautious ascent of the stairs and soon found herself in a narrow hall with two doors. The first door she tried was locked, so she tried the other one.

Martha walked into a room full of tin cans, ceramic pitchers and anything else that could be filled with dirt. Each was being used as a planter which either contained dead flowers or overgrown ones. There was a busted window in the room from which sunlight could hit the plants, and the roof was damaged enough that it was obvious water leaked in when it rained. Martha knelt down to examine some of the survivors. They were lovely colors and smelled amazing. Martha took a deep breath and almost forgot how cold she was.

Martha stood up and noticed a window seat under the busted window. There was a significant amount of water damage to it, but she could still see that it was one of those window seats that could also be used for storage. She walked over and lifted up the seat to see what was inside. She shrieked and dropped the swollen wood while jumping back when she saw a cockroach running around inside. She felt embarrassed as soon as the lid was shut. She had faced monsters and nightmares beyond the wildest dreams of many, but she'd shouted over a cockroach.

Martha walked back into the hall and peered over the stairwell to see if the Doctor had heard her shout and was trying to get her attention. He wasn't. He either hadn't heard her or hadn't been concerned. Martha walked back into the room and opened the window seat again. She gulped as she saw the cockroach, but it skittered away out of sight when the light from the window hit it. She peeked at the actual contents of the seat.

She saw a few textbooks and a number of spiral notebooks. She also saw a pretty leather bound diary with a golden lock that must have been someone's prized possession. Martha wondered who the diary had belonged to and why they might have left it behind. The books were covered in dust, but Martha thought she saw some sort of writing on the diary. Martha swallowed her distaste of bugs and reached in for the diary.

Martha blew the dust away and saw a symbol stamped into the leather. It was a circle with other circular symbols inside it. The symbol looked familiar somehow, but Martha couldn't place it. Martha placed the diary to the side and pulled out the textbooks. The books had been gnawed at by bugs but were still identifiable as maths, history and composition textbooks contemporary to the sixties.

Martha pulled out the notebooks and started to flip through them. Most of them contained homework. Much of it was graded. There were several "Excellent!" marks on the assignments, but also several marked with question marks or "please see me after class" as well. Martha read over one such assignment, which was an essay on economics. Martha thought it was quite good, until she got to a mathematical equation she couldn't quite wrap her head around.

Martha sat on the floor and tried to figure out how the equation worked, but she didn't even understand some of the symbols. She might have thought the student just made the equation up, but the rest of the essay was so quality. Martha couldn't think of a reason why such a bright student would resort to making up equations. Of course some brilliant students were like that. Everything came so easy to them, so sometimes they did ridiculous things just for attention. Martha had known students like that in her youth. They never studied but always excelled.

Martha flipped through some more notebooks and read through the student's other assignments. Martha thought the handwriting was feminine. A few papers had doodling in the margins that looked quite similar to the symbol stamped on the diary. They weren't the same symbol, but they had the same unique style. Martha was captivated by some of the things this student had written.

She was so captivated she almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the Doctor calling her name from the first floor. "Martha?"

Martha collected the diary and the notebooks and rushed back down the stairs. "Doctor I found the most incredible things upstairs!"

"Oh there you are. I was worried. I thought you might have wandered off," he said as she made it to the bottom of the steps. The Doctor was standing among a pile of half-constructed mad-looking devices. He smiled at her. "I'm making a fair bit of progress I think."

"That's good." Martha shivered. The sun had gone down, and now that she wasn't distracting herself with peculiar schoolwork she was once again reminded how cold it was. "I don't suppose one of those could serve as a space heater, could it?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Well it's bloody cold isn't it," she said in a light-hearted tone, trying to pass her discomfort off as a joke. "Near freezing."

The Doctor shrugged. "I didn't even notice. I can make a space heater though. You should have said something earlier if you were uncomfortable." Then he seemed to notice what she was carrying. "What's that?"

"I found the most amazing thing upstairs. I think a young girl used to live here, or maybe sneak in here after school and do her coursework upstairs. There's a room where she made a little garden. It's full of flowers!"

The Doctor stared at her as if she had grown a second head. "What are you talking about?"

"And she kept her schoolbooks up there. She did all of her assignments in these notebooks and they're really interesting. She also had a diary." Martha held up the diary. "I couldn't open it, but-" Martha didn't get a chance to finish her statement and tell the Doctor about the strange interesting symbols. He cut her off by snatching the diary out of her hand.

Martha was shocked by his rude and abrupt action. She was also a bit intimidated, so she took a step back. "What did you do that for?"

The Doctor stared at the diary like it was a powerful but dangerous tome. "Where did you find this," he asked in a strangled whisper.

"I told you," she said in a weary voice. "I found it upstairs in a room full of flowers."

The Doctor shook his head. "We need to go."

"What?"

The Doctor shoved the book into one of his oversized pockets and started gathering devices. "I shouldn't have come back here. It was a stupid ridiculous thing to do and I-"

"Doctor, wait. Stop." Martha tried to step around the debris and get in front of him, but he just hopped around her and resumed collecting his strange inventions. "Doctor, the sun has gone down. We can't leave."

"Of course we can. We're in London, not a haunted forest. It's not as if there's werewolves out there stalking the streets. Even if there were, I've faced a werewolf before and come out ahead, so we'd be fine."

"Doctor, you're being ridiculous. Where will we go," Martha demanded, getting agitated.

"I'll find a place," he said in a flippant tone.

"Doctor, it's freezing cold and pitch black out there! I'm tired and hungry! I'm chilled to the bone! I'm not wandering the streets of London at night with no place to go! If you know somewhere we can stay then tell me! Otherwise we're staying here until morning!"

The Doctor stopped at last. He looked up at her. His face was a war of emotion. Confusion was a contender, and annoyance looked like it might win for a second, but in the end chagrin seized the day. "I didn't realize. I'll rig up that space heater. I… I'll do that now."

The Doctor turned around and picked up something that might once have been a condenser coil. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and started making adjustments to the machine. Martha gave both of them a couple of minutes to cool off before she spoke again. She watched him tinker while she waited. She watched his long nimble fingers work and craft. It was in a way a beautiful sight to see. She cleared her throat.

He tensed. He kept working, but his hands slowed. He didn't speak, but she knew he was listening. That was something.

"Can we talk about what happened?"

"I'm sorry I didn't think about how cold it is," he said. "You humans are so needy with your specific ideal temperature range." Even though his words were dismissive his tone was contrite. All the same he seemed to miss the point in its entirety.

"Why did you get so upset when I showed you the diary I found upstairs?"

Then the Doctor's hands did stop. "I didn't even know she went up there. If she wasn't in the TARDIS I assumed she was at that school. I didn't understand back then. I couldn't see what she found so interesting about humans. You all seemed so silly and unimportant to me. I was a very different man back then." The Doctor picked up another device and pulled something out. He inserted it into his creation and then did something with the sonic. The Frankenstein machine began to glow red as he set it down.

Martha tried to process what she had heard. The Doctor had known the girl who left the diary upstairs. Earlier the Doctor had said he'd once parked the TARDIS here for an extended period of time. Perhaps the girl had been living here at that time. Martha discarded that theory. He spoke of humans as if both he and the girl weren't part of that designation. She must have been an alien as well. Why would an alien go to a human school? Martha looked at the schoolbooks still in her arms. "The girl who was up there, she was one of your companions?"

The Doctor laughed. It was a humorless grief-ridden laugh. "No, not really."

Martha frowned. There was something she was missing. All the pieces were there; she just needed the thread to link them all together. "She did travel with you though?"

"Yes. We left Gallifrey together."

That revelation slammed into Martha like a ton of bricks. She stared at the Doctor and an image entered her mind. She pictured the Doctor as a youth, a teenager, showing his cool new ride off to a girl he wanted to impress. She imagined them hopping inside to go for a spin, landing on Earth and deciding to slum it with the Earthlings for a bit, just for a lark. The idea was interesting and amusing, but she knew it was wrong. She looked at his devastated expression and wanted to comfort him. She just didn't know what for.

The room was starting to get warmer, and Martha forced herself not to sigh with relief as her numb skin returned to sensation. "I'm sorry," she said. "She seems wonderful."

The Doctor nodded. "She was my granddaughter. She called herself Susan."

Martha gaped at him. She didn't even know how to process that. The Doctor had told her many things about Gallifrey, but he had never mentioned his family except in the vaguest terms. All she knew for sure was that his family had died in the time war. The Doctor had explained the mechanics of the war to her, told her how the Daleks had come to be and what they wanted. Everything he had said had been in big picture terms. He never brought up individuals. Now he had.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to disrespect her memory. I thought she was just a bright kid who left her homework upstairs…"

The Doctor smiled at her. "She was bright."

Martha gave him a tentative smile back and then stretched out her arms to offer him the notebooks. He pushed himself to his feet but then hesitated in front of her. "What is it?"

"She was… In my entire family she was the only one who didn't hate me. She…" The Doctor started to laugh. "She was like you."

Martha tilted her head a bit and put on a puzzled countenance. "Like me?"

"You know how in your family everyone bickers and acts like a selfish arse? My family was like that, but by a factor of ten… or fifty."

Martha pushed down the urge to rise to her family's defense. The Doctor was confiding in her; she wanted to encourage him "Really?"

"Yeah. We fought constantly. Susan was the only one who could get us to stop tormenting each other for any length of time. If there was a compromise she brokered it. If we were nice to each other for more than a second it was to make her happy. I was… a terrible father."

Martha flinched in sympathy. "I'm sure you weren't that bad," she told him.

"I was," he promised. "I really, really was."

Martha cleared her throat. "It sounds like you loved them. That must count for something."

The Doctor looked at the floor. Now that it was dark outside everything was cast in shadow, a few blinking lights on his devices the sole source of lumination. The Doctor turned around and found an old lamp. He started fiddling with it. "I'll get us some light."

Martha sighed. "Thank you."

"I'll get us back to the TARDIS," the Doctor promised. "And I'll uh… I'll find us a more suitable place to stay in the meantime."

"How long do you think we'll be here? We'll need money for food at some point." Martha hated to sound like a pest, but if the Doctor wasn't going to be practical she knew that burden must fall on her shoulders.

"Right, right," the Doctor said. "I'll find a way to get us some cash." The lamp began to glow, quite brighter than standard contemporary lightbulbs should. The light served more than anything to highlight their unhygienic surroundings. The Doctor flinched as he surveyed the room. "I guess I should start cleaning up in here," he said.

"I'll help," Martha offered. The idea of assisting the Doctor in picking up the scrapyard didn't appeal to her. She liked to think she'd put her experiences in 1913 behind her, but they still rankled when something reminded her of that time. The Doctor hadn't brought that adventure up since their trip to check on the older Tim. She hadn't brought it up either, but she suspected their reasons for wanting to put the events behind them were different. The idea of cleaning up the junkyard reminded her of being a maid for those racist schoolboys, but if it needed to be done she was willing to help.

"No, no. You get some rest." The Doctor shucked off his coat and handed it to her.

Martha was touched by his thoughtful action. "Thank you." The coat was much cleaner than the floor, so she found a spot clear of metal and laid it down. The Doctor's space heater was working wonders, so Martha took off her own thin wrap and bunched it up for use as a pillow. She closed her eyes and started going through lists of symptoms for various ailments in her mind. It was a nighttime tradition that helped her keep up with her studies and lulled her to sleep. Soon, exhausted, she drifted off.

When Martha woke up it was because the rays of the rising sun were coming through the window and stabbing at her eyelids. She noticed that at some point during the night the Doctor had draped his suit jacket over her as a sort of blanket. She sat up and saw him, looking quite underdressed for him in just a shirt and trousers, with his sonic screwdriver clenched between his teeth dissecting what might once have been a clock. "Morning."

The Doctor looked over at her. "Yes it is."

Martha chuckled. She noticed that Susan's schoolbooks were still in a pile where she had left them last night, but that it was a somewhat straighter pile. The Doctor hadn't taken them, but he had rifled through them, which she found interesting. Martha stood up and stretched, listening to her joints pop. Her back was somewhat sore from sleeping on the floor, but she was used to worse back pain from scrubbing floors at that dreadful school. She flinched at the memory.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, brilliant," Martha assured him.

The Doctor stood up. "Right. Today we find a better place to stay," he told her.

"Alright," Martha said. "How's it going with your temporal anomaly detectors?"

"Wonderful," he assured her. "We should be back at the TARDIS in a few days at the most." He flashed her a dazzling grin.

Martha tried to return it, but something felt off about the smile. The Doctor started gathering up his devices. Martha put her wrap back on and collected the Doctor's jackets. She brushed off the dust as best she could and then offered them to him. "Thank you," she said again. "I appreciate it."

The Doctor put his clothes back on and then walked over to the pile of Susan's notebooks. He stared at them like they were some sort of inscrutable artifact that he didn't know what to make of or do with. He picked up the one from the top and opened it. He put it back down on the pile. He ran his fingers through his hair in clear vexation.

"We should take those with us. If someone finds them they might get suspicious," Martha said, trying to give him an easy out.

The Doctor nodded and collected the books, shoving them into his limitless pockets. "Right then," he said in a cheerful tone. "Off we go."

Martha followed the Doctor onto the London street, already busy even in the early morning with people rushing to and fro. The Doctor seemed to have a destination in mind, but Martha had learned by that point that he made an effort to always appear as if he knew where he was going. They walked for a bit, and Martha took in the interesting fashions of the sixties. At one point she giggled over the old fashioned televisions in the window of an electronics store. The Doctor noticed what she was looking at and laughed with her, taking her hand as he did so.

After a time the Doctor came to a stop in front of a hotel. "This place seems nice," he said.

"How will we pay them though?"

The Doctor held up his psychic paper. "We already have a reservation," he said.

"If the clerk gives us someone else's reservation what will we do when that person shows up," Martha inquired.

"When he takes out the ledger I'll look and see which rooms are empty. Then once we're upstairs I'll sonic the empty room open."

Martha conceded that it was a good plan and she followed the Doctor inside. The two of them walked up to the check-in desk, where a smiling clerk began to frown once he caught sight of them. "Can I help you," he asked in a tone of apprehension. Martha began to feel uneasy herself, but the Doctor was oblivious.

The Doctor showed the clerk his psychic paper. "We have a prepaid reservation."

"We?" The clerk looked at Martha.

"Yes. My friend and I have a reservation that we paid for in advance. It should be in your book," the Doctor said, completely at ease.

"Her?" The clerk pointed at Martha.

"Yes of course," the Doctor said.

"Sir you'll have to find somewhere else to conduct your… business," said the clerk in the tone of one attempting delicacy.

"What do you mean," the Doctor asked.

"This is a reputable establishment. We have families staying here. You and your… friend will have to find somewhere else to…"

"He thinks I'm a prostitute," Martha snapped because she knew the Doctor would never figure it out on his own and she was disgusted by the clerk's assumptions.

"What? Why?" The Doctor's confusion seemed genuine. He looked at the clerk with perplexed annoyance. "Martha is my friend. We're passing through town on a trip and decided to stay for a few days. That's all."

The clerk looked uncomfortable. "Even if that's true sir," he said in a tone that made it clear he didn't believe it was. "We don't have accommodations here for coloureds."

Martha scowled. She was so sick and tired of being treated like an inferior. "That's illegal. The race relations act of 1965 made it illegal for you to discriminate against me because of my race, and it was amended again to be stronger in 1968 before-" Martha cut herself off as she remembered that they were in 1969 and she couldn't mention the act passed in 1976 which replaced the first one. Still, she was glad she knew her history.

The clerk sneered at her. "So call the police."

Martha felt deflated. A law that wasn't enforced was useless, and Martha got a sense from the clerk's reaction that the police who would show up if called would be more inclined to arrest her than back her up. She turned around and stormed out of the hotel, too furious to speak further. When she got outside she started shivering in the cold again. She wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip, trying to calm down and not think about that deplorable racist jerk.

She felt something settle on her shoulders and gasped in fright, but it was just the Doctor. He'd taken his coat off again and placed it on her shivering form. "I got a refund," he said, holding up a stack of cash.

She scoffed. "The bloke who shows up for that reservation later won't be pleased."

"With any luck the same clerk will be here and take the full force of his rage."

Martha sighed. The thought didn't comfort her as much as she wished it did. "Well at least this wasn't a complete waste of time."

"Let's go buy you a coat, and some breakfast," the Doctor said.

"Breakfast sounds nice," Martha said. "A hot cup of tea would be heaven."

The Doctor offered her his arm and she took it, following him down the street. He didn't bring up what the clerk had said. She wasn't surprised. He hadn't brought up any of the things people had said or done to her in 1913 either. He never even brought up the things his alter ego had said. She had hoped that maybe once he was himself again he would assure her those words in no way reflected his own thoughts and feelings. When he didn't she told herself it was because he assumed it went without saying and tried to forget all of it.

They went into a second hand clothing store and found a warm woman's coat for cheap. The purchase still left them with plenty of money for breakfast. Martha saw a small Caribbean restaurant and steered the Doctor towards it. She assumed the food there wouldn't be too expensive and that the staff wouldn't be inclined to turn her away. She was right on both counts. They were able to fill up on cornmeal porridge, fried fish and plantains and still have a few dollars left over after the generous tip. Martha drank several cups of hot tea with breakfast and found that it warmed her spirit as well as her body.

Martha and the Doctor also had a delightful conversation with their waitress, whose thick accent reminded Martha of her paternal grandmother. She told Martha how she would never get used to English winters, and Martha cast a sympathetic glance at her revealing uniform, which offered no protection from the cold. She talked about the island where she had grown up, and Martha felt a pang of longing in her heart for her own home. She was in a physical sense a short walk from her family, but in a temporal sense quite far indeed. As traveling with the Doctor had taught her, between time and space time was the more stubborn of obstacles.

The waitress also asked them about themselves in addition to talking about her own life. They tried to keep the details sparse, saying they were just passing through for a few days to see the London sights. When breakfast was over Martha and the Doctor stepped back into the cold of reality. "We still need to find a place to stay," Martha said.

The Doctor nodded. "Well… I would say we could fix up Totter's Lane, but that might create a paradox if we aren't careful."

"Why's that," Martha asked, curious. She wasn't much inclined to return to the scrapyard, but she was curious why doing so might alter the timeline.

"Peri and I went there in 1985, and it was a derelict junkyard then. Of course if we clean up it could still fall into disrepair over the course of sixteen years I suppose," he said.

Martha frowned. "The roof leaks. It would take a lot of work to fix up. We'd need materials that we'd have to pay for." She wasn't trying to be difficult, but she couldn't see Totter's Lane working out in the long run for them.

The Doctor ground his shoe against the sidewalk, thinking. "You're right." He leaned against a wall, annoyed. "I miss the TARDIS."

Martha put a comforting hand on his arm. "No one can get inside without a key, right? She'll be there safe and sound when we get back."

The Doctor smiled at her. "She likes you, you know? She's so glad you're with us."

"Really?" Martha had spent as much time as she could with the TARDIS in 1913, assuring the machine that the Doctor would be back soon and normality would resume. She'd gotten vague feelings of approval and appreciation, but hadn't been sure they were real at the time. "I like her to. She takes good care of us. She always stocks my favorite foods in the fridge and gets the water temperature just right. She's thoughtful."

The Doctor looked into the distance with an affectionate grin. "She is. When we get back with any luck it will have been a few minutes and she won't have had time to miss us."

"That's the spirit!" Martha clapped her hands together. "Let's get back to it then."

"Right," the Doctor said. "I know a place where we can go, but we'll have to be careful and discreet." He looked up and down the street as if someone might be listening to them at that exact moment.

"What's the story?"

"I used to work for a certain international organization back in the near future."

Martha took a second to sort out the tenses and suss out that he meant in the linear future but his personal past. "My credentials don't exist yet, but I could use the ID codes of one of my colleagues to get into one of the London safehouses. We wouldn't be able to stay long, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"Because you're close to figuring out a way to get us back," Martha asked.

"Exactly. Right-o, this way." The Doctor indicated the direction with a tilt of his head and then pushed off the wall. He started walking at a brisk pace, so Martha's shorter legs needed to jog somewhat to keep up.

"What's this organization called?"

"UNIT," the Doctor said. "The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce," he elaborated.

"And you worked for them?"

"For a time."

"It's hard to picture you having any sort of job, especially a government job. You hate being told what to do," Martha pointed out.

"Yes, well the circumstances were unique."

Martha waited to see if he would elaborate, and when he didn't she decided not to press the issue. The Doctor had such a long and storied past. It occurred to her that he could prattle on for days and still just scratch the surface of his experiences. "The moon landing will be in a few months. Do you remember that? Us spying on Neil from afar like a pair of voyeurs. That was fun."

"We'll definitely be long gone by July," the Doctor said. "No need to worry about that."

"No, I know. Still, it's exciting. All these people walking down the streets are going to be part of such an important moment in human history. They'll bear witness to that first step on extraterrestrial soil. Everything that happens later, seeing other planets, settling there, all of it, it's all going to start with that first step in a few months. It's exciting."

The Doctor came to an abrupt stop and then turned to look at her. She couldn't quite make out his expression, but whatever his feeling was his eyes indicated that it was a deep one.

"What's wrong?"

"I just remembered."

"Remembered what?" She started to feel nervous. The last thing they needed was for something else to go wrong.

"Why I started traveling."

"Oh?"

The Doctor took her hand again. He examined it with a frown. "We should have bought you gloves as well. Your hands are as cold as ice." He rubbed her hand between his own for a second, heating it with friction.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "I'm fine."

"You are. You're brilliant. C'mon. Let's go see what UNIT's offering. I hope there's a lab." He kept hold of her hand as he started walking and began to hum under his breath.

"What song is that? It sounds familiar."

"Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da! It's number one on the pop charts right now," he enthused. "The first time a Scottish band topped the charts."

"Isn't that song by the Beatles? They're from Liverpool mate, trust me."

"The version that's on the charts right now is a cover. It's by a band called Marmalade. I'll tell you what. We'll buy the record later and listen to it."

"That doesn't seem like a prudent use of our remaining funds, but alright. If we're going to be in 1969 we might as well experience it."

"Well said Miss Jones. Well said indeed."

He started singing instead of humming, but at a low enough volume that passers by didn't hear him and turn to stare. Martha could hear him though. She held tight to his hand and thought to herself that his voice wasn't half bad. "Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, life goes on woah."

Martha chuckled in amusement at hearing the Doctor sing. Martha remembered that the song, though quite popular, had sowed many seeds of discords among the Beatles. She was no music historian, but she'd gone through her classic rock obsession phase. It was such a charming happy song. It was ironic that it caused so much frustration and distress for the people who created it.

She refused to see the song as an ill omen though. The Doctor had promised he would get them home. He had delivered impossible promises before. She believed in him. She listened to the remainder of the song without thinking about its context. She enjoyed the fun lyrics and the charming tune. She knew they would be fine and life would go on.


	2. Albatross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha and the Doctor meet someone who might be able to help them.

Martha woke up to a new day, a conflicted mind and a heavy heart. The UNIT safehouse wasn't lavish, but it was comfortable and well-stocked. It was also, to their initial confusion, occupied. When Martha and the Doctor had arrived at the apartment building the Doctor had gone to the mailboxes and opened the box for one of the apartments and taken out a small container. It had a combination lock with such a long string of numbers it would be impossible for a human to memorize the combination. Martha wasn't shocked the Doctor had managed however.

The Doctor took out a key and then replaced everything. "Right then. Up we go."

Martha followed the Doctor up to the third floor, where he opened the door. They walked in and then both stopped at the same time, each stunned into still silence. A woman was sitting at the kitchen table. She was eating jam out of a jar with a spoon. She had long white hair, but she didn't look any older than Martha. She looked up at them, spoon sticking out of her mouth. She had no irises, just large white eyes with a small black pupil in each. They stared at each other for a few seconds before she pulled the spoon out of her mouth with a disturbing popping sound.

"Hello."

"Hello," the Doctor said. "How are you?"

"Are you with UNIT?" She went back to work on the jar, evidently still hungry.

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Yes we are."

"I guess you lot don't trust me." She didn't seem too concerned or even offended by the idea of not being trusted. "Are you going to ask me more questions? I already told you everything," she insisted. She scraped the bottom of the jar, creating an irritating sound.

"Weeeeell…" The Doctor looked over at Martha. She could see the gears of his mind turning behind his eyes. The problem with coming up with a cover story on the fly was that once something was said you were more of less stuck with it. Everything you committed to made the next step that much trickier.

"We're not like the other people you spoke with," Martha told the woman she was more or less certain was an alien. "We're specialists," she said without saying much of anything at all. "We're here because of your unique situation," she finished.

"Oh," the alien woman said.

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Your situation is quite unique indeed. In fact, when we first heard about you we were…" He looked at Martha.

"Intrigued," she suggested.

"That we were," the Doctor said.

"Well I'm not all that interesting," the alien woman protested. "Just a bit foolish."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," the Doctor said. "It could've happened to anybody really."

"I suppose that's true," the alien said.

"We've all been there," Martha said.

"You've been trapped on an alien planet after your spaceship broke down?"

"Not another planet," Martha said. "But I've broken down on the side of the road before and had to wait for a tow. Now that I think about it, it's not quite the same. You're right."

The Doctor gave her a discreet thumbs up and mouthed 'good job' while the woman turned her attention back to the empty jam jar and made a sound of annoyance. "Well the point is," he said as the alien looked up at them again. "That's why we're here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm an expert on extraterrestrial spacecraft, and I've been sent here to help you get your ship back in working order." The Doctor looked quite proud of himself for coming up with that. Martha was just relieved neither of them had made the alien suspicious yet.

"Those other UNIT guys said my ship was beyond anything they'd ever encountered before," the woman told them.

"Beyond anything THEY had encountered, yes. Like Martha said though. We're specialists. I don't want to brag-"

"Heaven forbid," Martha couldn't resist saying.

The Doctor shot her a look, but it was more amused than anything. "I've worked on some of the most advanced engines in this or any other time. I'm sure I can fix your ship."

The alien grinned. "What about you?" She pointed at Martha with her spoon. "What sort of specialist are you?"

"Oh. Me?"

"Martha is an integration specialist," the Doctor responded before she could.

"A what," the woman asked.

"She's here to help you blend in with humans until we get your ship fixed," he elaborated.

"Oh. Alright." The alien jumped to her feet and stuck out her hand. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you both," she told them.

The Doctor shook her hand. "I'm Dr. Smith."

"Martha Jones," Martha said when it was her turn to shake the alien hand. It was warm to the touch, much warmer than human flesh.

"Call me Lucky, because that's what I am."

"Good attitude," Martha said. She admired the woman's brave cheer when faced with being stuck on an alien planet. She was inspired by the alien. Lucky's situation was similar to her own, with temporal displacement standing in for physical displacement.

"Oh you misunderstand me. I'm not lucky as in I have a lot of luck. I'm lucky for others."

"Oh," Martha said. "Well that's still good."

"Yes. I'm a- I don't think I know the word in any human languages. I'm an… albatross."

Martha was confused. "Like the bird? I thought they were bad luck."

"No, no," the Doctor chimed in. "An albatross following a ship is good luck. It was only bad luck for that mariner because he shot it down." The Doctor smiled at Lucky. "You know quite a lot about Earth customs, and you're speaking an Earth language. How long have you been here," he asked her.

"I can't even remember. The way time is measured on this planet causes me no end of confusion." She turned to Martha and directed her next statement at her. "But I suppose you can help me with that, since you're an integration specialist." Lucky smiled.

"Yes. Yes I can, because yes I am."

"Excellent." Lucky clapped her hands together a few times and then squealed in delight. "Oh I'm so glad I met the two of you!"

"We're glad to meet you too," Martha said.

That had been their introduction. That was how Martha ended up with a new alien roommate. There was one bedroom in the apartment, and Lucky was already settled in it, but she had been delighted to offer to share with Martha. The Doctor, still pretending to be a human scientist, had said he would sleep on the couch. Martha knew he spent his nights wide awake working on his inventions, but there was no need for Lucky to share that knowledge. Everything just came together.

Lucky had told the Doctor where her ship was parked; he went to look at it without any further questioning. Lucky and Martha took the spending money UNIT had supplied to buy the woman a pair of sunglasses and some hair dye. Martha had suggested a wig at first, but upon finding out she could change her hair color Lucky had been captivated by the idea. Martha had helped her dye it. When they did Martha felt almost normal again.

In the apartment bathroom, with plastic bags covering everything that could get splattered, including her skin and clothing, Martha had joked and laughed with Lucky like they were just two normal young women living their lives in London. When the dye had finished its work the alien's white hair was cherry red.

"You look amazing!"

Lucky hugged Martha. "Oh thank you!"

"Watch out! You'll stain my shirt!"

Lucky had let her go and they both chuckled over the outcome of their experiment. They also went out and bought clothes. Martha told Lucky it was a lesson on Earth customs and fashion, but Martha did in fact need new clothes as her closet on the TARDIS was unreachable. Martha had so much fun with Lucky she hadn't even noticed how late it was until the Doctor returned and she realized the sun had long been down.

"Nice hair," the Doctor said.

"Thank you. How's my ship?"

"Oh, I'll have it fixed up in a few days, never you worry. Martha? The brigadier wants to talk to us. Can you excuse us Lucky?"

Lucky's eyes flashed with some emotion that appeared and disappeared in such an instantaneous fashion Martha couldn't place it. It might have been confusion or apprehension, but she couldn't be sure. Lucky smiled at them and nodded. "See you soon."

The Doctor pulled Martha into the hall, his hands trembling with excitement. "I examined Lucky's ship. It's perfect Martha, perfect."

"Perfect for what?"

"It can get us back to where we were, back to the TARDIS." He was whispering, but his excitement made his words large.

"It's a time machine?"

"No, but-" The Doctor paused. "The dynamics are a bit complex. In layman's terms, if you pick up enough speed time will go by slower for you than it will for everything not traveling with you. I can modify the engine to generate enough force so that we can travel around the Earth until 2007, but for us less than a week will have gone by. We can get back!"

Martha's mouth blossomed into a smile that illuminated her whole face. She grabbed the Doctor into a fierce hug. "You're amazing!"

"It's been said."

"And so humble," she added. She felt almost giddy. It wasn't that she'd ever doubted the Doctor, but being somewhere without the TARDIS had weighed on them both. Even when they'd been locked on the Pentallian cut off from the TARDIS she'd still been present in a way. They didn't have access to her, but just the knowledge that she was in another room a few locks away had been a comfort.

It didn't matter anymore. Soon they'd be back on the TARDIS and 1969 would just be another memory. "What about Lucky?"

"She'll be able to get home. We'll go to 2007 and then Lucky will be able to take her ship back to her home planet," the Doctor said in a flippant tone. "Happy endings for everyone."

"But…" Martha went over what the Doctor was saying in her mind. "Will she be able to travel back in time? Or will it still be 2007?"

"This slapdash method of time travel really only goes one way. I thought vortex manipulators were bad. It's amazing how your standards lower when you're desperate."

"Doctor," Martha said. "Lucky won't have any way to get back to the time she's from."

"So?"

"So when she gets back home everyone she knows could be dead. That isn't fair."

"Oh," the Doctor said. "I didn't even think about that. Well… What do we do then?"

"We have to tell her the truth. We have to tell her we aren't really UNIT and ask her if she's willing to help us. We can't maroon her in the future without her consent. It isn't right."

"Oh!" The Doctor perked up like he'd had an idea. His bursts of inspiration were so easy to spot it was almost as if actual lightbulbs hovered over his head. "We take her back to her planet and THEN we come back and travel to 2007. Easy peasy. No need for dramatic declarations of truth."

"But then we'd be stealing her ship." Martha wanted to go home. She was desperate to get back to the comforting safe familiarity of the TARDIS. She wanted to visit her family. She wanted to leave 1969. She wasn't comfortable taking advantage of a good person's trusting nature to do so though.

The Doctor threw up his hands in exasperation. "What do you want from me?"

"I think we need to be honest. I don't think it's right to steal from her. Maybe she'll agree to help us. Especially since we're helping her."

The Doctor shook his head. "She can get a new ship on her planet. Maybe. Probably. I don't know. Martha, it's not exactly easy time traveling without a time machine. This could be our only way back. Well, forward. You get the idea. Even worse, if we tell her the truth and she turns us in to her UNIT handlers that would create a world of trouble for us, not to mention a potential Earth-shattering paradox."

Martha cringed. She understood his point, and it seemed there were no good choices, but all the same she felt uneasy. She asked the Doctor if they could sleep on it and he agreed, even though he didn't sleep. Which brought her back to the moment at hand, waking up, no less uncertain than she had been the evening before when she stared at her new friend from across dinner, smiling on the outside and in turmoil on the inside.

Martha rolled over to look at Lucky, but the alien wasn't in the other bed. Martha stood up and wandered into the kitchen. Lucky was sitting at the table, listening to the radio, reading the paper and destroying one of the fresh jars of jam they'd picked up yesterday.

"Good morning," Martha said.

"Listen Martha. The number one song is on the radio." Lucky turned up the radio so Martha could hear the guitar solo that was definitely not Ob La Di Ob La Da. "It's about me." Lucky released a snorting chuckle.

"Huh?"

"Albatross, by Fleetwood Mac," Lucky said.

"Oh, my mum loves them. I thought the number one hit right now was that cover of a Beatles Song by a Scottish band."

"That was yesterday. Well it was the day before today. It wasn't the song Yesterday."

Martha chuckled at the joke. "Good one."

Lucky smiled. "It's a new week and there's a new list. Marmalade dropped to number four."

"Too bad for them," Martha said.

"So, what do you want to do today while Dr. Smith works on my ship? He left so early this morning. That's a man with a work ethic."

"Wait, he's already gone?"

"Yep," Lucky said. "So where are we going?"

Martha kept a cheerful countenance, but inside she was seething. It was just like the Doctor to run off in order to avoid further discussion of their dilemma. Well he would have to come back. Martha pushed the issue to the back of her mind and focused on Lucky.

Martha made herself a quick breakfast of buttered toast (she dared not risk jam) and an apple she found in the back of the fridge. She got dressed and took Lucky to all of her favorite spots, the ones that weren't yet to exist anyway. They visited museums and libraries. They walked through parks. They went to a pub for lunch that in Martha's time was a posh place her sister adored but in the late sixties was a working class spot with a much rowdier crowd. They nibbled on chicken and cheese while having a few pints.

They explored as much of London as could be squeezed into a single day. Martha felt like she was rediscovering her home. She loved it. She was shocked when the sun started to go down. She felt like they'd just left the Unit safehouse a few hours ago. "I've had so much fun with you today," Martha told Lucky.

Lucky reached out and squeezed Martha's hand with her much warmer one. "I've had so much fun with you. You're a delight Martha."

"Thank you," Martha said, touched.

"You remind me of someone I used to know, a dear friend," Lucky said. "You are so full of sweetness Martha." Lucky pulled Martha into a tight hug. The two women then made their way back to the UNIT safehouse.

Martha was telling Lucky about a tasty and simple dish they could make for dinner as they entered the apartment. Once they were inside the Doctor jumped up from where he'd been seated at the table. "Where were you?"

"We went out," Martha told him. "I was teaching Lucky about human things."

The Doctor frowned. "I need to talk to you."

"Alright," Martha said as she set down her grocery bags. The Doctor took her hand and pulled her behind him into the hall before she could get another word in edgewise.

The Doctor shut the door and walked a few steps down the hall, making sure they were well out of earshot. Martha began to feel nervous. His distress was evident. "What is it? Is something wrong with Lucky's ship?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Nothing is wrong with Lucky's ship. I combed through every piece of equipment on the ship, and there's no explanation for why it stopped working and she needed to land here. I tried to check the logs, but they're missing. The ship won't start, but I can't figure out why, because it should."

"Maybe Lucky has the logs."

"There's something else Martha. When I was walking around her ship it felt… old."

"Old?"

"It's hard to explain, but… Lucky said she hid her ship underground a few miles outside the city. There are trees growing on top of the soil covering her ship. Everything inside is covered in dust. I think… I think maybe Lucky has been here for a very, very long time."

Martha frowned. "We should ask her about it."

"I don't think that's a good idea." The Doctor was shaking his head. "She's hiding something. It could be something dangerous."

"We're hiding something," Martha protested.

"Not something bad."

"Maybe she isn't either. If you go around expecting the worst from people the worst is what you get. How often have we been trying to help someone just be hindered because they're suspicious of your alien nature?"

"I fail to see how that's relevant."

The Doctor was so clever; it amazed Martha how often he missed simple things. "I think we should give Lucky the same benefit of the doubt we'd like to receive. We should be open and honest with her. She might respond in kind and tell us everything we want to know."

The Doctor released an exasperated breath and looked up at the ceiling. "Fine," he grumbled after a protracted musing.

"We'll talk to her?"

"Yes, yes." The Doctor crossed his arms and then uncrossed them. "You're right."

Martha grinned. "Love it when you say that."

He rolled his eyes, but then he offered her a repentant smile. "It's better to trust and be trustworthy than to live a life of suspicion."

"I agree. Let's go talk to Lucky."

Martha and the Doctor returned to the flat, where Lucky had finished putting away the groceries and was beginning to wash the vegetables for the dish Martha had suggested. "Lucky," Martha said. "Can we talk to you?" Martha gave her friend an encouraging smile as Lucky turned to face them. "It's about your ship," she said.

Lucky smiled. She wasn't wearing the sunglasses, so her white eyes with the miniscule pupils were on display. Her new bright red hair shimmered in the artificial light like a fire. She opened the fridge and pulled out a jar of jam. She grabbed a spoon from the cutlery drawer and then sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm all ears," she said.

Martha and the Doctor went and sat down with her. Lucky began to unscrew the top of the jar. "I examined your ship some more."

"It's alright Dr. Smith. I understand. It was always a slim chance you'd be able to fix it."

The Doctor frowned. "That's not it. I can fix your ship Lucky. I'm just wondering what happened to the logs. I'm also curious as to how long the ship, and you, were on Earth before UNIT discovered you. I get the sense that it may have been quite a while."

Lucky dug out a spoonful of jam. "I told you I'm not good at keeping track of Earth time."

"How long have you been here in your own time Lucky? What planet are you from?"

Lucky reached over to the stand the radio was on to turn it up. "Listen. The number one hit is on the radio again." Lucky stood up and started swaying to the sad guitar notes.

"Lucky," Martha said, beginning to feel a sense of disquiet fall over her. Something twisted in her gut. She was afraid for her new friend. She was afraid that perhaps her friend wasn't even who Martha thought she was.

"There's no words. That's the way it should be. Words just muck up the emotions. It's better without the words, don't you think?"

"I rather like words," the Doctor said. "They foster understanding. You've been on Earth much longer than you led us to believe."

Lucky sighed. "Do you not trust me anymore Dr. Smith? Do you think I'm a liar who intends to take advantage of you," she pressed.

Martha flinched at her words. Lucky's question reflected Martha's insecurity about her and the Doctor's own motivations and actions. "We want to help you Lucky," she said to her new friend, hoping that she was being honest, both with herself and Lucky.

"You have. You have helped me greatly and continue to do so. Now!" She brought her hands together in a loud clap. "Let's make dinner." Lucky went back into the kitchen, signaling that their conversation was over, regardless of how Martha or the Doctor might feel about the matter.

The Doctor scowled. "Something is wrong."

"Let me talk to her," Martha pleaded. "We spent the whole day together. We've gotten to know each other. I think she'll confide in me if we don't pressure her too much."

The Doctor shrugged. "Fine," he said.

"Are you sure you can fix the ship, even though you don't know what's wrong with it?"

"I can get that ship working," the Doctor assured Martha. "Don't worry about that."

"I'll talk to her tonight, after dinner. I think if we're all honest with each other everything will work out," Martha said. "What's the old saying? Good intentions breed good results."

The Doctor released a soft half-hearted chuckle of agreement. "I think that's it."

Martha smiled at him. "I believe in you," she told him. "I know you can do this." She did trust the Doctor, and his technical skills had proven themselves time and again. She hoped that the Doctor might return her vote of confidence, that he might tell her he believed in her as well and trusted her judgement. She wasn't surprised however when no such statement was forthcoming. "I'll go help her."

"Uh-huh," the Doctor said, already lost deep in thought. She knew he wasn't listening anymore. She sighed and left the table.

The kitchen appliances, although a scant couple of metres from the table, seemed to be encased in a bubble of warmth. Martha found her doubts and worries melt away when she got to work with Lucky. It took less than a minute for them to be joking and laughing with each other again. They didn't take long to prepare the meal, but by the time they'd finished the Doctor had disappeared to some unknown location and errand.

Martha refused to be put out by the Doctor's rudeness and just enjoyed dinner with Lucky, who told delightful stories about funny things she didn't understand about Earth. Lucky brought out a deck of cards and a tin of biscuits after they finished cleaning up and the pair played snap. Martha kept finding herself sliding into an enticing sense of comfort and familiarity.

The Doctor, for all that he looked human and was quite knowledgeable about humanity, was quite alien in his behavior and mannerisms. Martha never forgot that her traveling companion wasn't human, even when he had been human. His behavior as a human was so dissimilar to his usual actions that it made his normal alien nature all the more pronounced in Martha's mind.

Lucky however, for all that she looked alien and seemed ignorant of the basic information most humans knew, came across in her personality more human than the Doctor ever did to Martha. The things that amused her, the way that she spoke and the judgements that she came to reminded Martha of her sister and friends back on Earth. Martha kept needing to remind herself that Lucky was in fact an alien, and a mysterious one at that.

That night, after the Doctor had returned to the living room and Martha and Lucky had retired to their beds, Martha had every intention of questioning Lucky further on her past and her intentions. She was tired though, having enjoyed a full day, and soon Martha found herself falling asleep. She awoke when she heard the sound of wood sliding against wood. Martha sat up and looked over at the window, where Lucky was halfway out onto the fire escape, dressed in day clothes.

"Lucky," Martha whispered. "What are you doing?" Martha got to her feet and put her hands on her hips. She remembered being in this same situation as a teenager, when her sister would sneak out to parties or to meet up with boys. Martha didn't think Lucky had similar activities planned for her evening.

Lucky returned to the room. "I'm going to check on my ship. Do you want to come?"

Martha was thrown. "Why are you going out the window," she asked Lucky.

"I don't want the Doctor to see me."

Martha felt like a cold hand had reached into her chest and was squeezing her heart. The Doctor had said his name was Dr. Smith, so calling him the Doctor didn't have to indicate Lucky knew more than she said. All the same Martha was almost certain it did. "Why don't you want him to see you? What are you going to do? Talk to me Lucky. I'm your friend."

"You are," she whispered, her new red hair almost glowing in the darkness of the room.

"What's at your ship?"

"Come with me. I'll show you."

Martha bit her lip. "We should get Dr. Smith."

"There is no Dr. Smith. There never was."

"What do you mean," Martha asked.

"You can trust me Martha. I'm an Albatross, and I'm lucky. Come with me. Nothing bad will happen to you. I only become bad luck if you shoot me down. I know you wouldn't do that."

Martha wasn't sure what she should do. A part of her thought running into the living room and telling the Doctor everything was the wisest course of action. She knew if she did so Lucky would slip out the window and be gone, perhaps forever. She still held onto a hope that there was an explanation for everything and if she gave Lucky a little bit of trust she would prove herself worthy of it.

Lucky grinned. "C'mon then. Put on your new coat Martha. It's bloody cold outside."

It occurred to Martha as she changed into street clothes that Lucky shouldn't know Martha's coat was new. Martha's coat was her one article of new clothing purchased before meeting Lucky, with the money the Doctor had conned from the racist hotel clerk. Martha supposed Lucky might just be confused, but Martha was also starting to get the impression that Lucky wasn't confused by much. All of Lucky's ignorance of humanity began to feel pale and inauthentic. Martha looked over at Lucky as she buttoned her coat. Lucky smiled at her, pupils blown wide, almost obscuring all the white in her eyes. "Ready sweet?"

"I'm ready," Martha said.

Lucky stretched out her hand. "Let's be off."

Martha took Lucky's hand and followed her out onto the fire escape. Lucky led Martha down to the street where a blue Morris Minor was parked. The color made Martha think of the TARDIS and feel a pang in her heart. The car was unlocked, and when Lucky slid into the driver's seat she pulled a set of keys from where they were hidden under the brake pedal. Martha felt uneasy. In their two days of walking around London Lucky hadn't once alluded to being loaned or owning a car.

"Is this your car?"

"Seatbelt," was Lucky's only response.

Martha put her seatbelt on and repeated her question as Lucky started the car.

"Nope." Lucky flicked on the headlights and started driving. "I'm just borrowing it."

"From UNIT?"

"No."

Martha looked out the window at the people still on the street late at night. Some of them were going to and from work. Martha had worked night shifts at the hospital. She smiled as she remembered her mother pitching a fit upon learning her daughter was walking the streets of London at night. Francine had been convinced that Martha would be mugged, raped, murdered or all three. Martha had just apologized and promised to be careful.

Some of the people out there were already at work though, Martha knew. Some of them were sex workers or drug dealers. Some of them were cops or sanitation workers. Some of them were taking smoke breaks.

"Some of them just couldn't stand the noise anymore. Some of them were overheating in their confinement. Spouses, parents and children pestered them until they realized they'd prefer to be alone in the cold than in the warm embrace of their tiresome loved ones," Lucky said, eyes locked on the road.

Martha felt more uneasy than ever. "Are you reading my mind," she whispered.

Lucky was silent. She'd been so talkative and affable the last two days. It was as if she had flipped a switch. She kept her eyes straight ahead and didn't mutter a peep. Martha felt like Lucky had become an altogether different person. Or perhaps, Martha considered, she was the same person she had been from the beginning, but her mask had slipped.

"We spent so much time talking about Earth, but you haven't said a thing about your home planet. What's it like? Why did you leave?"

Lucky's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "It was a horrible place, full of horrible people. I'm well rid of it," she said after a long pause. She glanced at Martha. "You can't possibly imagine. It was like suffocating."

Martha kept her voice low and soothing as she responded. "You ran away to be free?"

Lucky reached for the radio and turned it on, filling the car with the sounds of Stevie Wonder singing that for once in his life he wouldn't let sorrow hurt him. She put her hand back on the wheel and succumbed to silence.

Martha got the impression that Lucky didn't want to have a real conversation until they got to her ship, and attempting to force it would be like pulling teeth. So Martha let it go. They chatted about a few inconsequential things until they were well beyond the city limits and arrived at a patch of unaltered countryside.

"This is where your ship is buried?"

"This way." Lucky got out of the car. She turned it off, but she left the keys in the ignition. She didn't appear worried about theft.

Martha followed Lucky to a discreet entrance to an underground tunnel. The tunnel was narrow and had a low ceiling. They had to crawl through it. Martha was relieved to find that the tunnel was also short. Soon a heavy metal door marked the end of the tunnel, and Lucky opened it into a large metal chamber.

Lucky helped Martha to her feet when Martha got to the door. Martha looked around and saw that the room was circular with tall gray walls. The room appeared empty at first, but then Lucky touched one of the walls. Long glowing lines of red, yellow and blue began to run up and down the walls. They formed odd symbols Martha couldn't understand.

"Is that the language of your people?"

"It is, yes. Although most of these symbols are numbers, not letters. Math on my planet wasn't a base ten, it was a base eight. It took me ages and ages to get used to the way numbers work on Earth. I'd see an elven and think it meant nine. I'd see thirty-seven and think thirty-one. My brain would just sort of 'does not compute' when I saw a nine. I got it in time, but it took a while." Lucky laughed at herself. "It's the little things, you know?"

Martha nodded. "That makes sense."

Lucky reached out and ran a finger down a red line. "Numbers I got used to, but the freedom… It still intoxicates me," she said.

"Freedom from what," Martha asked.

Lucky took her hand off the wall and walked over to Martha. Lucky slipped her warm hand into Martha's and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I was never free from their scrutiny. At all hours throughout all days. My thoughts were never my own. Always they were subject to the judgement of others. My actions didn't matter, because I was condemned for mere thought."

Martha put the pieces together. "Your species is psychic. You can all read each other's minds. If you ever thought something bad about them they knew right away."

Lucky drew Martha's hand close to her face and inhaled the scent of her skin. Martha was perturbed. Yet she also felt a measure of sympathy for Lucky. She couldn't imagine living in a world where even an idle thought was grounds for condemnation. She shivered at the memory of reading 1984 in school.

Martha realized something. "You knew who the Doctor and I were the moment you first met us," she said. "You played along with our lie. Why? Why not just turn us in to…"

Martha put more pieces together. "UNIT doesn't know you're in the safehouse. You read someone's mind to get the code for the box with the keys. You…" Martha shook her head as the picture became clear.

"You're so clever," Lucky said. "You are so clever and so sweet." She squeezed Martha's hand again. "You've got me sorted."

"I just don't understand why."

"I have thoughts sometimes. I know they're wrong, and I never act on them. It doesn't matter here, but on my planet I was a creature of scorn and disgust. They reviled me for thoughts I couldn't control and would never act on." Lucky dropped Martha's hand and turned away. "I had to flee."

"Intrusive thoughts don't make you a bad person," Martha said. "It's a medical condition, and one that can be treated."

Lucky gave Martha a tentative smile. "So what you're saying is that I need a doctor?"

"Um… I guess so," Martha said.

"So that's settled then!" Lucky turned back to the wall and began fiddling with the symbols on it. "You can be my doctor," she said.

"Wait… What?"

Lucky turned around and gripped each of Martha's hands in one of her own. "When you opened the door I saw your thoughts. You are so compassionate and kind. You're sweet Martha Jones, and you know that I love sweet things. I can't stay on Earth, not with the Oncoming Storm here. Maybe it's time. I've been here for centuries, but there are other planets to explore. I can give you what the Doctor no longer can. I'll show you the universe, sweet Martha Jones."

"What?!" Martha snatched her hands out of Lucky's grip. Her heart began to race. "No!"

Lucky tilted her head in confusion. "I saw in the Doctor's head how to use my ship's engine to travel forward in time. I can get you back to your family when you want to go home," Lucky promised. "I can give you anything and everything you want."

"And the Doctor," Martha asked.

"He's dangerous. You've seen it. The oncoming storm carries destruction and death in his wake. He would be the end of me."

Martha shook her head. "The Doctor doesn't want to hurt anyone. He's a good person."

"We don't always get what we want," Lucky whispered. "But I can give you what YOU want, my dear Martha Jones. You're special; I knew it from the moment I saw your mind."

Martha shook her head, fear and confusion bubbling up in her. "I'm not," she said.

"I told you about my sickness and you understood! No one has ever understood my illness before! You didn't think that I was a monster. You felt sympathy for me."

"It isn't your fault if you have intrusive thoughts Lucky. Why should I condemn you?"

"Because everyone else does."

"Lucky…" Martha took a deep breath. "I like you a lot, and there's nothing wrong with you."

"So you'll come with me?"

"No," Martha said in a firm voice. "I will not abandon the Doctor. He's my friend."

"He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't appreciate you either. I'd appreciate you. I'd give you every star in the sky! You are the first person I've ever met with such a lovely mind! You are full of such sweet wit."

Martha looked away, embarrassed. She swallowed and cleared her throat. She tried to sort through her confusion. "Lucky I want to go home. I want to leave 1969. However, I won't abandon the Doctor to get what I want."

"He'll be fine. Four decades is nothing to him, but it's half your life. Will you throw away your future just to be his carer? He'll abandon you as soon as he gets his ship back, and forget your lined face as soon as the sounds of the TARDIS engines fade. You know I'm right!"

"No! I don't know that! The Doctor is my friend! We look out for each other!"

Lucky scoffed. "You look out for him."

"At least he's honest with me," Martha snapped. "He doesn't tell me everything, but he's honest with me. He told me things about his past, painful things. As flawed as he is, he's still his authentic self with me. You lied to me from the moment we met." Martha thought about all the things she and Lucky had done together. They reminded her of memories of her friends and sister because Lucky had seen those memories and copied them.

Martha shuddered. She felt used. The Doctor, whatever else he might have done had never tried to create a sense of false intimacy between them. "He's been trying to be more forthcoming with me. He admits when he makes mistakes. He isn't perfect, but he's trying to be better. He's this brilliant, amazing genius that's saved planets, but he still tries to be better." Martha shook her head and chuckled to herself in amazement.

"He may not care about me the… the way that I care about him, but he does care. He does try. I won't leave him behind to wonder what happened to me for thirty-eight years. I won't be another person in his life that disappeared. I won't do that to him. So no, Lucky. The answer is no."

Lucky looked down at the floor. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Martha said.

"I can't help you then. I won't take the Oncoming Storm as my passenger. I value my life too much. If you're determined to stay with him… You're stuck here."

Martha considered arguing with Lucky, but she knew there was no point. Lucky already knew everything she would say. Martha stuck out her hand. "I'm still glad I met you."

Lucky gaped at her. "You are?"

"Yes. We're friends. We may not see eye to eye, but that's okay. The Doctor will figure out a way to get us home, and even if he doesn't… I don't blame you for my being stuck here. It isn't your fault."

Lucky shook her hand with tentative amazement. "Thank you."

"I guess I'll be going. Safe travels."

"The keys are in the car," Lucky said.

"Thanks," Martha said as she headed back into the tunnel. She stopped and turned around. "The Doctor isn't what you think," she insisted. "He wouldn't hurt you. The things he did in the past he only did because he didn't have any other choice. You think he's dangerous because you see in his mind that he thinks that. There's more to him. He's a good man. He's a good friend."

Lucky shook her head. "I see that you believe that. I also see that you love him. Love clouds judgement. I will take no chances," she said.

Martha sighed. She'd tried.

"Will you-" Lucky looked at the floor. "Will you think of me sometimes? When you listen to a pretty song, will you think of the albatross you met? She was Lucky. You shot her down and she disappeared," Lucky said.

"Sure," Martha said. "I'll think of you. I promise. When I check the charts to see what the number one song is I'll remember you."

Lucky grinned. "I'll remember you too. I'll remember you all the time. You're a special person Martha Jones. Good luck."

Martha, on an impulse, hugged her. She ran into the tunnel and left the ship before Lucky could react. Once Martha was in the car she had no doubt Lucky had borrowed from someone unaware she had no trouble finding the keys in the ignition. Martha didn't start the car though. She waited. Soon the ground shook. A tree fell over. The soil rose up. A metal sphere broke free from its earthen captivity. The ball glowed red. Then it vanished in a burst of sudden speed.

Martha sighed. "Goodbye." She wondered if she'd just made a horrible mistake. She shook the thought from her head. The Doctor had made her a promise. She knew that he would keep it. She believed in him. She started the car and began to drive back to London, and her Doctor.

**Author's Note:**

> All reviews are welcome and encouraged. Short, long, compliments, complaints, all types. Reviews are very appreciated and encouraging.


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